


The Pursuit of Contentment

by Chromophilic_Daydream



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Coping, Happy Birthday Goro, M/M, Post Game, hurt with some comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 10:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19060813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromophilic_Daydream/pseuds/Chromophilic_Daydream
Summary: Writing whatever he liked filled him with satisfaction to know that he was valuing his days in the form of jotting down whatever struck his fancy—Important or dull, exciting or ordinary. He lived his days for the sake of something more than just himself.





	The Pursuit of Contentment

**Author's Note:**

> I'm glad I could write this piece. It has been a long time since I started writing for Persona 5 and I intend on continuing to do so! Goro's birthday this year marks the second year anniversary of me writing for this series. I've been incredibly distracted with zine work but I will get back into writing more regularly. Thank you to everyone who has supported me. I appreciate you all so much.
> 
> Thank you [Reiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selvanic) for betaing for me as always and helping talk me through this stuff! You're amazing and deserve far more credit than you give yourself. Thank you to my wife for always being there to kick my ass into writing and giving me pep talks. You are such an inspiration.

It was that time of year again.

 

It was the time when it was hard to walk outside without breaking a sweat. That time of year when the fresh green of blossoming trees began to lose the soft edges of their petals and wither in the basking sunlight of the longer days. Summer had begun to encroach in the crescendo of cicadas singing on the winds of the fleeting spring.

 

Which meant it was nearly time to get another journal.

 

He only had a few clean pages left to spare in his current one; the worn pages were a testament that yet another year had flown by since he was in a neighborhood stationery store after his last one filled up. It was funny how such a pointless little thing became something of a tradition he shared with no one else in the world in the last five years.

 

Akira was sure his friends would probably think it was strange, this habit of his. No doubt they’d ask him, with the best of intentions, if he was alright. If they knew how long he spent writing whatever he wanted to in a book no one else ever saw, they’d be sure to question it. Such things were reserved for teenagers or students— But since his probation days back in high school, he had found some comfort in writing mundane things in a journal. Writing whatever he liked filled him with satisfaction to know that he was valuing his days in the form of jotting down whatever struck his fancy—Important or dull, exciting or ordinary. He lived his days for the sake of something more than just himself.

 

It had become a motivation of sorts. It was like a competition with himself to keep writing in whatever journal he was keeping these days until all the pages were filled up and another year had passed.

 

It was his way of sharing his life in such an intimate way. His observations about work, about his life, what happiness meant and how unobtainable that all seemed now. His habit began to morph over the years. It brought him comfort and solace that no amount of talking to his therapist could ever bring. Because talking to someone who was professionally trained to deal with his nervous ticks and crippling self-worth wasn’t the same as what kind of closure this process of scribbling in his journal brought him. He was still as quiet as ever, but on those pages, he didn’t have to be. He could shed his protective shell and say what he really wanted to say. In a small way, he could be Joker again, seize his opportunity to express what was inside of him all this time. A desperate attempt to grasp onto what made him feel special in the first place with blots of ink on starch white paper.

 

It was a stifling day; he had just finished talking to his landlord about some problems in his new apartment. His whole life was in boxes since he moved a week ago, but it didn’t deter him. He spent a whole year of his life living out of a box in an attic that he sorely missed. Morgana was staying with Ann for a bit while he was adjusting and moving in. He was sure his friends didn’t mind so much. It brought back some of the glory of the good old days… whatever those were. He managed to unpack a few more boxes and put away some winter clothes in the small closet in his hallway before settling down and pulling out a pen and his journal that sat proudly on his bedside table.

 

He flipped the creased and dog-eared pages and sat down on his bed to write. 

 

_ Goro, _

_ It’s the first of June and it’s gotten incredibly hot already. It makes me wonder why people always look forward to the summer when it’s winter and the opposite. Could it be like wishing for something you don’t have? It’s something to look forward to right? I guess chasing something impossible is what keeps people going sometimes. I can’t say I don’t understand the feeling. I know it quite well. Even now I’m wishing it was cooler out, just like I’m wishing you were still here. I guess I’m just like everyone else. But it doesn’t make time go by any faster or change anything… but it still doesn’t feel pointless to wish for things. _

 

_ It rained today, but it made it really humid out. I guess it’s going to be an especially wet season. Hopefully, no typhoons hit. At least until I get the leak in my apartment roof fixed. That’s right, I got a leak in my roof and it ruined a book I was reading for class. I don’t think my professor is going to accept 'soggy book' as an excuse to skip out on homework. But I’ll take my chances. I’m taking a psychology class now. Don’t laugh at me, but maybe it would help me understand us both better. That’s what I thought when I signed up for it. _

 

_ This new place I have is pretty nice. There’s a Belgian waffle place I have to walk by to get to my station and it always smells like maple. I haven’t stopped in yet. I think you’d like it though. It’s very neat and polished inside. Nothing like Leblanc, almost the opposite kind of feel to it. Actually, maybe you’d hate it. _

 

He wrote like this every day, like the pages he was scribbling in were an old friend he was catching up with over a game of chess or coffee. For years he had been doing this, quietly expressing his thoughts and emotions away from the eyes of the world. It was comforting to know that there was somewhere for him to do so, no matter how bitter and angry his days were… he could talk about them somewhere… with someone important.

 

Akira shared things he never thought he’d be able to in ink smeared pages.

 

He talked of dreams and possibilities—fears, hopes, desires… he wrote about things he thought Goro would like… things he thought he’d hate… Things he, himself hated. He recounted it all in the leather bound books that would never retort or comment anything back to him. But he felt the comfort all the same like he could imagine a coy smile pointed his direction or a nod of affirmation.

 

In that way, it was almost enough to make him feel better on most days. Like Goro hadn’t really gone away. Like he would come back one day and Akira would finally—

 

_Finally_ tell him so many things he had thought about for the last few years. It would be a lot of anger, apologies and thank yous. He wanted a fresh start, a clean slate… which was probably another reason he had grown so fond of journaling. Once the pages had filled, he could start again. If only the same could be true for other situations. If only it could remedy the regret he was still trying to process. If only Goro knew how much he had truly impacted his life.

 

But maybe one day he could wrap these journals up and give them to Goro. He imagined it sometimes, the gift of his emotions being placed in those gloved hands. He was sure he’d get a quizzical look like the detective was trying to figure out why he would give him such a thing. He wasn’t even sure if he’d want them but they were every little bit of what Akira felt… and he deserved to know how much he still thought of him. Of how someone still thought of him...

 

He took a glance at the clock on the wall he just finished hanging earlier in the day. It was just before midnight and his hand started to cramp up when he finally completed his entry and the entirety of the journal.

 

Akira took that moment to stretch and go to the kitchen to make himself some tea. He had no intentions of sleeping.

 

Since giving the journals was never an option, he had another tradition take its place, for now. He wasn’t sure he had completely given up hope… however, for now, this was enough. He was grateful Morgana wasn’t around to ask him about it this time, too. Usually, he was able to tell his friend he wasn’t feeling well or had something to do. He could tell by how Morgana’s ears tucked back that he wasn’t fooling the cat. However, it still felt better to lie than to be honest about what he did every June 2 nd.

 

Many years ago he had gotten a cake on the way back to his parents’ home and shared it with a picture of Akechi he dug around on the internet for. He still had that picture when he moved back to the city. Even now, in his own apartment, he kept it. It sat in a moving box on his rickety bookshelf. He carefully pulled up the tape on the box, removing the wooden frame and dusted it off before sitting it down on the bedside table where the journal once rested. He turned on his lamp and stared at the clipping he framed with a soft smile.

 

“Gotta stop meeting like this, hm?” He smiled fondly. One of these days, maybe, they would meet again. If he was out there, surely that day would come. Just as much as other people wished for the warmth of the sun when snow started to fall—just as much as other people wished for the coolness of snow to drip down their faces instead of sweat from the scorching heat— Kurusu Akira wished there was still a chance that Goro was out there… somewhere.

 

He took a sip of his tea and pulled out his journal, flipping back to the very first pages when he made his entry a year ago on the very same date.

 

“June 2 nd . I’m mad at you, you know. Leaving me alone like this when I couldn’t even begin to understand you has been a thought that haunted me the last four years. I wish you didn’t leave and you left anyways. It makes me think of the what-ifs, of what could have been. Things I’ll never know an answer to, I just have to live with. But I miss you. I think you’d laugh at me if you knew that. Some rival I must be that I couldn’t even make you stick around to challenge me.” He flipped the page, swallowing a lump in his throat before continuing to read out loud. 

 

“I think today would have been really great if you were still here though. There’s a new game at that arcade we went to before, you remember? I bet I could beat you fair and square. No mercy even though it’s your birthday.” He laughed a little at his embarrassing admittance. 

 

An entry at a time, he read until his voice had gone raw and the tea he made was completely drained. Until every last thing he had written down had been read out loud so he could share his life and feelings with someone he was sure could understand.

 

The sun had begun to rise before he got the last entry. His eyes were itchy and swollen with tears. Quietly he closed the filled book and looked up at the picture. “That’s what happened this year. I think… it’s getting easier. At least I feel like that sometimes. Some days it feels like I’ll never get over any of it. But this year… this year I’m going to start on something positive. You’ll be proud of me, I know it.” He laughed at himself, his voice cracking from spending the last several hours reading. 

 

He placed the book and frame inside his unsteady bookshelf along with the last few years worth of journals and felt his heart swell with pride and felt a smile spread on his lips.

 

Later that day, he found a perfect slate gray journal and started his new entry on a crisp page. A wave of contentment washed over him.

 

_ Goro, _

_ I can’t believe it's been another year. I don’t know what I’m going to do with my day today to celebrate your birthday, but maybe I’ll go try those little Belgian waffles I mentioned. _

 

For now, it was enough.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! you can follow me on twitter @chromiekins


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